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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365402">But Don't Take Love Off The Table Yet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylalwrites/pseuds/mikaylalwrites'>mikaylalwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>But Don't Take Love Off The Table Yet verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Romance, Band Fic, Banter, Cinnamon Roll Eliza Schuyler, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, England (Country), Fluff and Angst, France (Country), Gay John Laurens, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mom Friend Angelica Schuyler, Past Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Rock Stars, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Tour Bus, alexander is really the idiot but that goes without saying, where's peggy?, who knows - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:40:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365402</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylalwrites/pseuds/mikaylalwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Thomas Jefferson and his band will be joining us for the rest of tour,” Angelica said quickly. Alexander unattractively spat out his coffee onto the couch and Laurens’s shirt. </p><p>“Damn it, I stood in the splash zone,” he complained as he looked at the giant coffee stain on his Journey t-shirt. </p><p>Alexander Hamilton, for once in his life, was shocked into silence. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Angelica explained that Jefferson and his bandmates would be sharing this tour bus with them and it would be beneficial for both bands. “After all, if Lafayette is going to be in both bands it would be easier if they performed together” and “This will be a great opportunity to get used to dealing with Jefferson.” Alexander was having none of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton &amp; Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton &amp; John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton &amp; John Laurens &amp; Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette &amp; Hercules Mulligan, Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, Angelica Schuyler &amp; Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>But Don't Take Love Off The Table Yet verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>But Don't Take Love Off The Table Yet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is based off a prompt that was suggested to me by the lovely <a href="https://lin-manhell.tumblr.com/">lin-manhell</a> on tumblr (who doesn't have an ao3, unfortunately). </p><p>Person A likes Person B but believes they deserve better so doesn't say anything. When they get forced together and B kisses A, A doesn't believe it and thinks B and C did this to get in their head. Severe angst occurs. </p><p>I mixed it with a band au that I thought was rad and toned the angst down a bit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You can’t be serious,” Alexander said exasperatedly when Lafayette told him the news: that he would be drumming for Thomas Jefferson’s band. He annoyedly fixed his bun, which had come loose and was dropping hairs in his eyes. “You’re our drummer. I feel personally affronted by this! It’s betrayal.” </p><p>Lafayette sighed. “It’s not a betrayal. Zeir drummer quit, I’m filling in. It’s zat simple.” </p><p>“We’re already on the same damn label, with the same manager. I don’t want to share a drummer on top of it. Can’t they find someone else?” </p><p>“Zey have a live show tomorrow, Alexander,” Lafayette pointed out. Alexander knew he was being unreasonable, like a toddler who has to share his favorite toy, but he couldn’t help it. He was tired of sharing with the worst band in America.</p><p> Well, they weren’t all that bad. Alexander just needed a reason to hate them so much. Otherwise it was all superficial and Angelica was already at her wits’ end with their rivalry. Why she would want to manage both of their bands at the same time, he would never figure out. Even if his reason for acting like a douche in front of Jefferson and his shitty bandmates was superficial, they never liked him anyway. He had no reason to be nice to pompous assholes. </p><p>He hadn’t realised he’d gone silent until Lafayette rubbed a hand across his face and walked out, defeated. Alexander fell back into the couch of the band’s dressing room. Lafayette had picked possibly the worst time to be a two-timing drummer: this was their first world tour and they were only on the first American date. The last thing on Earth Alexander would do is cancel such a big moment for his band for Jefferson’s benefit.<br/>
Angelica wandered in moments later, yelling about Alexander’s unkempt appearance and how he was on in ten minutes. He already skipped sound check so if he screwed this up, he’d never hear the end of it. He grudgingly headed for the mirror to check how much he’d have to do to be passable. His bun needed to be tightened, again. The dark circles had no immediate fix so he let those be. No one would see them with the bright lights and pyrotechnics anyway. His shirt needed changing though: this was the third day in a row he’d worn it. People would start talking soon. He threw a The Rolling Stones shirt on and figured his jeans would last one more wear. He wasn’t Thomas Jefferson. His pretty boy lead singer image wasn’t in jeopardy. He was Alexander Hamilton: all he needed was deep, poetic lyrics and to show up at his shows. The only time he cared enough about his appearance was when an interview came around. People would be close enough to see his sleepless eyes then. Makeup hid them and a good button up handled the rest. Angelica came in again to announce five minutes to showtime and he left his dressing room to be lifted onto the stage. John Laurens, his closest friend, the band’s guitarist and back up vocals, was to his left. Hercules Mulligan, the stylish bassist, was to his right. And behind them all was the band’s most reasonable member, the powerhouse drummer and only European, Lafayette. </p><p>Alexander held his breath until he emerged on stage, at which point he let it out with an energetic shout to rile the crowd. They responded with a roar that could have shook the whole arena, despite it only being three-fourths of the way full. Their fan base was a little over half the size of Jefferson’s band’s but he loves his fans' energy. They were loud and jumped wildly. It made Alexander’s heart swell to watch his words have such an effect. He gave a strong strum on his rhythm guitar to start their first song. </p><p>They did the usual fifteen or so songs then an encore. Alexander was elated after. A six pack of Redbulls couldn’t compete with the amount of energy he had meeting with the few fans that lingered after the show; he was sure - he’d tried drinking six Redbulls one after the other once, all he got was sick. He took a picture with the last guy, one with a cool raven tattoo on his forearm that Alexander couldn’t help but compliment. It said ‘nevermore’ under it. He’d never seen someone with an Edgar Allan Poe tattoo before. </p><p>Lafayette was looking at some lyrics Alexander had scrawled on the blank page of a magazine that Jefferson had made the cover of. He’d ripped the cover off a month ago. </p><p>“Zis would make a good rap,” Lafayette commented. </p><p>“And what exactly are we supposed to play while you rap like you’re summoning a demon?” Laurens quipped, while changing his shirt. “Don’t think I can play that fast.” </p><p>Lafayette laughed then said, “I will rap slower then. Or per’aps Herc can give me a good bassline.” </p><p>“I’m all for the bassline idea,” said Alexander. “It could be a fun interlude between one of our mellow songs and energetic ones.” </p><p>Laurens hummed. “Have to run it past Angelica. There’s no way she’s letting us change a thing about this tour without her knowing.” </p><p>Alexander nodded then said confidently, “She’ll approve. It’s a rockin’ idea.” </p><p>“I think you should have Eliza tell her,” suggested Hercules. Angelica was always more inclined to agree when Eliza suggested something. She wasn’t a big fan of Alexander’s ever since he’d drunkenly kissed Eliza after then gotten a Grammy nomination. Eliza had taken it the wrong way and he had to let her down easy. Alexander loved Eliza, he loved her enough to never actually date her. She was a good friend and deserved someone as kindhearted and pleasant as her. Alexander decidedly was not. Eliza had forgiven him because that’s who she was but Angelica had not. He could still recall the cold sweat he’d gotten when she chewed him out afterward. </p><p>“You’re right,” Alexander agreed. “I’ll tell her when I don’t look like a drowned rat.” </p><p>“When’s that?” asked Hercules with a shit-eating grin. </p><p>“Fuck off. I’m taking a shower.” </p><p>“The shower doesn’t work,” Laurens called down the hall as Alexander turned to head to the tour bus’s only shower. “I already tried. We’re all going to have to shower at the next venue.” </p><p>“You have got to be kidding me,” Alexander grumbled. “There’s no way I’m waiting until we get to Philadelphia to shower.” </p><p>“What are you going to do?” asked Hercules. “Steal someone’s hose? We’re all in the same boat.” </p><p>“Do you think Jefferson and his bandmates have to deal with this shit?” Alexander wondered annoyedly. He didn’t really know why he asked. He needed to have the last word in every situation. </p><p>“Man, why do you care?” Hercules asked tiredly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were one of Jefferson’s closet fangirls.” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Alexander said. “He’s got the same label and manager so I wonder if he gets the same treatment. His hair looks too nice to have ever had to wait a day to wash the sweat off his body, if he even sweats.”</p><p>Laurens snorted. “It’s all an act. He’s just as sweaty as any of us.” </p><p>“Except he actually washes more than once a month,” Angelica commented from the doorway. “Buses are leaving in five. All of you stay put.” </p><p>“Damn, Angie, harsh,” Laurens said, dramatically feigning offense. Angelica rolled her eyes and turned to leave, at which point Alexander called out to her. She turned back and mumbled a “yeah?” </p><p>“Can Eliza ride with us?” he asked, as sweetly as possible. “I have something I want to run by her.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Angelica agreed. “She should be taking pictures for the band’s Instagram anyway. But” -she gave a serious look to each of them, underlining her point- “Behave yourselves.” </p><p>“Not interested,” said everyone except Laurens. </p><p>“I’m literally gay,” said Laurens. </p><p>Angelica made a “you’re all so stupid, but I love you” face then said, “I didn’t only mean- nevermind. Just don’t do anything stupid.” </p><p>“Stupid is basically Alex’s middle name,” quipped Laurens. </p><p>Alexander went to correct him, then realized. “Actually it’s- oh fuck off.” </p><p>“Goodnight,” Angelica said on her way out. A chorus of goodnights followed her even after the door shut. A minute or so later, the small frame of Eliza Schuyler slid through the door. She often had a beautiful wave of dark hair down her back, a cute shirt and skirt ensemble, and sneakers. She never went anywhere without her cell phone, for quick pictures, and camera, for concert shots. Today wasn’ t any different. She took a seat next to Lafayette, who was her favorite member of the band, before the bus started moving. She smiled at everyone as she set down her camera. </p><p>She made eye contact with Alexander. “Angelica said you needed to tell me something?” </p><p>“Laf thought one of the songs I wrote would sound better as a rap and Herc thought we should pitch it to you before Angelica,” Alexander explained. “It’s a great idea. We’re going to work on a bassline before we get to Philadelphia then I thought” -he pulled out a copy of the setlist and pointed to two songs towards the end- “it would be perfect as a transition between these two songs. Laf, show her.” </p><p>Lafayette rapped the lyrics Alexander had written into the magazine with only a glance or two at the page. Everyone clapped as a lame attempt at a beat as he did so. When he finished, Alexander looked back to Eliza and said, “see. It’s a great idea. Now, all you need to do is convince Angelica it's a good idea.”<br/>
“Slow down, I haven’t said what I think yet,” Eliza said, pushing her hands out in a ‘stop’ motion. After a long pause for dramatic effect that left Alexander very impatient, she added, “It’s a great idea.” </p><p>Alexander jumped up and released a breath. “All that to agree with me! I knew I was right. You knew I was right. Could have saved me the anxiety.” </p><p>“The best things in life come with some waiting,” Eliza shrugged. </p><p>“Have you been hanging out with Burr?” Alexander said, scrunching up his nose. “The only person I’ve ever known to enjoy waiting more than the end. I hate being stuck in a cliffhanger and that man lives for them.’ </p><p>Eliza shook her head. “I don’t really like Aaron Burr any more than you do. Besides, they have their own band photographer.” </p><p>“And for that, I’m thankful,” Alexander grumbled. “We already have to share Angelica and Lafayette.” </p><p>“That’s what you get for signing up for the same label and management as them,” Eliza said. Alexander was about to protest but Eliza held up a finger and continued, “I’ve heard it before. The label was recommended by us and you joined Schuyler Management because we’re friends. And you don’t like that we agreed to manage Jefferson’s band before yours but he sent an application in first.’ Alexander’s jaw shut. “Looks like that’s covered.” </p><p>“I don’t get why you hate him so much,” Eliza sighed moments later.<br/>
He knew why he hated Jefferson but it became hard to explain every time someone asked. He hated Thomas Jefferson because...he was Thomas Jefferson. How else was he supposed to feel? He looked wrong. He acted wrong. </p><p>He decided on the least silly argument. “He started out rich. Doing all this is only making him richer. He was basically handed his record deal. I had to struggle to get here: to America, to this point. I played shows that I had to pay for. If he had to do that, which I doubt, it didn’t break the bank.” </p><p>“So, you hate him because you think his daddy made him successful?” Eliza said. “Do you hate Angelica and I too? She’s a manager in our dad’s management firm. I’m a hired photographer. Would you have me if I were a bad photographer?” </p><p>“It’s not just that his father gave him a boost. He’s an asshole. He’s insufferable,” Alexander tried. “You and Angelica are talented and kind. And he’s a talentless bastard.” </p><p>Eliza sighed. “Why do I try with you?” </p><p>She entered the hall and crawled into a bunk without another word. As the night wore on, the rest of his bandmates claimed their own bunks. Alexander stayed up looking at a blank page in his songwriting notebook. He never seemed to have ideas when he wanted them. That’s why he had so many song lyrics scrawled on magazines, napkins, and on his phone’s notes app. He looked up at the ceiling. Why did he hate Jefferson? Couldn’t he just be indifferent? It would make everyone’s lives that much easier. But no, Alexander was incapable of being indifferent. He was too quick to love or hate to do anything else. If only he could think of creative lyrics for a song about hating people for stupid reasons. He could write a whole damn album on the subject if inspiration struck. He stayed up for the next several hours fueled by coffee with far too much sugar and the desire to do something. He drew useless doodles and erased them until Eliza found him at a quarter to five. Her hair was somehow not spiked up at odd angles like Alexander’s always seemed to be when he slept. She yawned and looked at him in a disappointed but definitely not surprised way. </p><p>“You should sleep, Alexander,” she said softly as she moved to grab a bowl of cereal. She looked sadly at the colored marshmallows in her bowl. “I miss healthy breakfasts already. Can’t you guys at least get less sugary cereal?” </p><p>“No way. I run on sugary cereals, coffee, and a healthy amount of spite,” Alexander said. </p><p>“Unhealthy food and unhealthy habits,” Eliza mused. “It fits.” </p><p>“I said a healthy amount of spite.” </p><p>“We all know that’s a lie,” Eliza said, lifting a spoonful of cereal to her lips. She ate it and swallowed. “You have something to prove to everyone, you’re overdosing on spite.” </p><p>“Got a lot of assholes to prove wrong.” </p><p>“And dying of sleep deprivation is only going to prove them all right.” </p><p>Alexander mumbled a “fine” and headed off to his bunk. Days of 21 hours awake and 3 asleep caught up with him and he slept well into dinner. </p><p>The tour was halted by a day so that Lafayette could perform with Jefferson’s band. Alexander was irritable the entire day. So much so that all of his bandmates and Eliza stayed out of the tour bus the entire time. He heard from some roadies that they’d gone to see the live show. What the appeal was, Alexander would never know. </p><p>When the band returned that night, Angelica was with them announcing she had news. Judging by the way his bandmates were looking at him, he was the last to know. He look a long drink of his coffee and waited. </p><p>“Thomas Jefferson and his band will be joining us for the rest of tour,” Angelica said quickly. Alexander unattractively spat out his coffee onto the couch and Laurens’s shirt. </p><p>“Damn it, I stood in the splash zone,” he complained as he looked at the giant coffee stain on his Journey t-shirt. </p><p>Alexander Hamilton, for once in his life, was shocked into silence. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Angelica explained that Jefferson and his bandmates would be sharing this tour bus with them and it would be beneficial for both bands. “After all, if Lafayette is going to be in both bands it would be easier if they performed together” and “This will be a great opportunity to get used to dealing with Jefferson.” Alexander was having none of it. </p><p>“I don’t fucking think so,” Alexander said once words came back to him. “Next we’re going to merge the bands like some big K-pop group. I’m not spending the next four months stuck in a van, then a plane with Thomas Jefferson and his insufferable bandmates. You can’t make me.” </p><p>No one had the chance to say anything before he continued his rant. “We don’t even play the same genre of music! We’re a rock band with the occasional rap verse. We’re the Gucci version of Limp Bizkit. Jefferson and his band is the Walmart version of Panic! At The Disco new stuff and they’re already the Walmart version of Fall Out Boy.” </p><p>“I personally think Panic! At The Disco’s new stuff is great-” Laurens was interrupted by a glare from Alexander and backpedaled. “Nah, it’s shit.” </p><p>“Stop being a genre elitist for three seconds and cope with the fact that this is happening,” Angelica chastised. To everyone she said, “Thomas, Aaron, and James will be here in ten minutes to settle in.” She stared at Alexander so it was clear her next words were intended for him. “And be nice. We’re all adults, act like it.” </p><p>When Jefferson and friends arrived at the tour bus, Alexander had several choice words to say but kept them all to himself. Thomas Jefferson looked as pristine as usual. Well-kempt curls, moisturized skin, and manicured nails. He wore the white button up and lilac blazer he must have worn during his band’s live show. This was a tour bus, not Project Runway, he didn’t need to flaunt how goddamn gorgeous he was to everyone. Alexander bit his tongue and settled on a scowl. </p><p>“Ah, looks like Angelica has finally found her mutt a collar,” he said in his infuriating Southern accent. Everything he said sounded charming, even when it wasn’t. “I hope it shocks.” </p><p>“Better than being all bark and no bite,” Alexander retorted, staring annoyedly into Jefferson’s dark eyes. </p><p>Jefferson smirked and said in a low voice as he passed, “Trust me, I bite.” Alexander’s mouth was left hanging open. He looked to everyone, who were greeting Jefferson, Burr, and Madison warmly. It seemed no one heard what had transpired or they were ignoring it. How couldn’t they see how much of an asshole this guy was? Alexander huffed and watched them. </p><p>He hated Jefferson the most but he never liked his bandmates either. The quiet but calculating guitarist that was Aaron Burr infuriated him because he was passive and never stood firm on anything. The considerably less quiet bassist James Madison’s betrayal was long from being forgotten. He used to be the bassist instead of Hercules Mulligan but decided to be a flake and stopped showing up at band practice. The next time Alexander saw him was on an album cover with Thomas Jefferson. He hated admitting it but Madison was a better bassist than Mulligan. Then again, Mulligan was actually useful. Alexander often wondered how long it would take for a better opportunity to come along and Madison to leave Jefferson in the dust. It had been three years so far. </p><p>After Jefferson and his bandmates had greeted everyone and put their stuff where it would be for the rest of the American leg of the tour, Laurens suggested they all play Truth or Truth. When Alexander asked “what are we, eighth graders?” Laurens said there wasn’t much room for dare on a tour bus and besides, “one of us could be an axe murder and we need to know.” He’d begrudgingly obliged. Shockingly, none of them were admitted axe murders. They were, however, horny bastards that had sex in normal, and not so normal places. Eliza was the only exception and blushed the whole time. She was, according to Laurens, “a small innocent cinnamon roll.” She’d protested which led her to accidentally admitting to having a daddy kink, which surprised absolutely everyone. </p><p>“Make that a sinnamon roll with an s,” said Laurens. </p><p>“Shut the fuck up, John,” she mumbled. Everyone then began teaching her because she hardly ever swore. It wasn’t actually a bad evening despite Thomas Jefferson being there. They all found out strange, interesting, and personal things about each other. If Alexander could spend an evening with Jefferson without incident, maybe he could make this work. </p><p>That lasted a day. They ended in a ridiculously heated argument at breakfast that made everyone groan. Eliza took her cereal and ate in the bathroom. Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette didn’t talk to either of them much for the rest of the day. This lasted through the tour dates on the East Coast and Midwest. Angelica was more irritable than she’d ever been. Alexander and Jefferson were working on her last nerve. In mid-July, between the tour date in Northern California and the one in Southern California, they found themselves ditched after a day on the boardwalk. It was near sundown and Alexander was in an anxious frenzy. He’d been in disbelief that they’d forgotten the most important member of their respective bands. Jefferson was leaning over the fence that separated the boardwalk from the beach listening quietly. He was in the most casual clothes Alexander had seen him in the whole tour: a light tank top and shorts. He’d never admit it but he was having difficulty tearing his eyes away from the russet brown of his arms for most of their time at the beach. Now, he was too annoyed to be distracted. </p><p>“Hamilton,” Jefferson said softly, hoping to halt the short-fused man’s tirade.<br/>
“What if they’re already halfway to LA?” Alexander repeated for the third time at least. “Are we that forgettable? I always thought I made an unmissable impression but maybe I was wrong. I mean, I’m usually busy and hard to get to go anywhere but I didn’t think that mattered.” </p><p>“Hamilton,” Jefferson repeated a little louder. He rolled his eyes when Alexander kept going. He shifted a little closer and repeated even louder, “Hamilton!”</p><p>Alexander halted his pacing but still in a fit of passionate complaining, he yelled, “What?!” </p><p>Jefferson shook his head. “They left us here on purpose. We’ve been at each other’s throats and an evening alone might be helpful.” </p><p>“How romantic,” Alexander scoffed. “An evening with my least favorite person.” </p><p>Jefferson sighed. “We might as well make use of it. How ‘bout a game of twenty questions?” </p><p>Alexander opened his mouth to call the idea childish then shut it. He conceded, “Fine.” </p><p>“I’ll go first,” the taller man decided. “Why do you hate me so much?” </p><p>“You don’t like me,” Alexander said. “Do I need another reason?” </p><p>“I suppose not. Your turn.” </p><p>“Okay,” said Alexander, stretching out the last syllable. “Lemme think. Why do you always look like that?” </p><p>Jefferson furrowed his brows. “Like what?” </p><p>“Like you’re going to church,” Alexander tried. </p><p>Jefferson laughed in a way that both infuriated Alexander and made his heart flutter. “Are you asking why I don't let myself walk around like you? Some of us try to avoid looking like a used mop. Besides, I have a reputation to upkeep. My turn.” </p><p>They went on like this until the tour bus returned to pick them up. By then, they were sitting on the sands of the beach together, laughing. Alexander hadn’t seen Thomas Jefferson’s smile in person before. He’d seen it on album covers, in magazines, and on TV but never in front of him. He and Jefferson had met many times before but they often scowled at each other.  Strangely, he liked this development. The more he talked to Jefferson, the more hope he had that the rest of this tour might go smoothly. They probably wouldn’t ever be friends but tolerating each other was a start. When Angelica walked onto the beach in her business casual skirt and heels, she wore a smug grin. This had been her idea and it worked, she had every right to be smug. Alexander wondered why he ever doubted this event having ulterior motives. Angelica was an honest and kind person but she was clever. </p><p>The rest of the American leg of the tour went off without a hitch. Alexander didn’t have to struggle to keep his mouth shut because he had little ill will to give to Jefferson. Everyone on the bus was visibly more relaxed when the both of them got along and he had no reason to jeopardize it.<br/>
Eliza, Angelica, Alexander’s band, and Jefferson’s band had some free time between the American leg and European leg of the tour so they all went home to change out their suitcases and freshen up before the plane they had to catch at the end of the week. </p><p>The first thing Alexander did when he got home was take a long shower. Everyone had compared him to a drowned rat for the entirety of tour and he took this opportunity to rectify that. He dried his hair on a towel, tied it into a bun, and pulled on some pajamas. He crawled into bed and pulled out his phone. Somehow, he found himself on his band’s Instagram page. Most of it was pictures of the band on stage from different tour dates then he found a candid from the boardwalk he hadn’t seen before. The picture was focused on Lafayette judging a piece of chocolate covered bacon, which he called “some weird American bullshit” but in the back of the photo was a semi-blurry version of Jefferson and himself. Alexander was scowling into a bowl of Dole whip but Jefferson was staring at him with a funny look in his eyes. It wasn’t contempt or even indifference. He thought he saw something he’d never seen on the taller man’s face: genuine fondness. He stared at it for a good twenty minutes before deciding that was entirely impossible and he must be seeing things. He turned out the light and got his first full night of sleep in months. </p><p>Alexander could not be content with downtime for long. He was antsy to leave the house and do something productive by the time the flight to Europe came around. Their first tour date in this leg was London, England and he had so many things he wanted to see and do. He wouldn’t have time for all of them but he was committed to doing as many of them as he could. When it was time to get on the plane, all that could be heard was Jefferson enthusiastically talking about how ecstatic he was to be returning to France. He’d studied abroad there for a while. What a rich bastard thing to do, Alexander thought to himself. This was the only time Alexander had been to Europe. He considered spending a month in Europe at the end of this tour. Then he decided it would be hard to write songs 3,000 miles from his bandmates. </p><p>After the concert in London, they had a few days until they had to be in Ireland so the day was spent sightseeing. Alexander found himself alone again with Jefferson, this time not too far from the London Eye. Jefferson suggested they ride it together and sit on the same side. Finding this odd, Alexander was reluctant to oblige but the taller man could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. He found himself sitting next to a man he’d come to tolerate rising to the top of a Ferris Wheel. Though it was nowhere near the tallest structure, it felt like the top of the world when they reached the top and stayed a moment. Alexander turned to Jefferson to comment on the view and noticed he looked very nervous. Jefferson being one of the cockiest bitches he ever met, he had previously doubted the word nervous was in his vocabulary. They sat in silence for a moment. </p><p>“I have something to say,” Jefferson said awkwardly. “I like you.” </p><p>Alexander laughed with his whole body. “God, I hope so. I don’t want to be up this high with someone who hates my guts.” </p><p>“No, I mean I like you,” Jefferson tried. When Alexander showed no change in reaction he sighed. “Fuck this.” </p><p>He grabbed Alexander by the collar of his coat and kissed the smaller man on the lips with full force. His eyes closed but Alexander’s did not. He didn’t kiss back either. He pushed Jefferson off of him angrily. </p><p>“What the fuck was that, Thomas?” he seethed. “What is evening happening right now?” </p><p>Jefferson’s heart sank. He could barely find the words to say. “What do you mean?” </p><p>Alexander wiped his lips roughly on his sleeve. “Where’s the camera?” When Jefferson sat confusedly in silence, he stood. “Where is it? If you think I’m getting tricked into making a damn fool of myself, you’re dead wrong.” </p><p>Jefferson, who up to this point was only a bit deflated, was enraged now. “What the fuck are you talking about?” </p><p>“This whole damn thing!” Alexander spat. “You set me up. This whole being civil thing was a ploy to make a laughing stock out of me. Do you hate me and my band so much?” </p><p>Jefferson stayed put and his voice evened out. “You really don’t think it’s possible I could actually like you, do you?” </p><p>“No, because that would be stupid,” Alexander said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. </p><p>“How much of an asshole do you think I am?” Jefferson asked tiredly. He wasn’t really angry anymore. He felt pity for himself, Alexander, and this whole situation. </p><p>“This much.” </p><p>“If that’s what you think, I might as well act up to your standards.” </p><p>“Fine,” Alexander said. </p><p>“Fine.” </p><p>“Fine,” Alexander said. No one but him was ever going to have the last word, especially not Thomas Jefferson. When their part of the wheel reached the ground, he made a quick exit and raced off to find the tour bus. For the first time in months, Alexander had the inspiration to write lyrics. He was filled to the brim with creative spite and intended to write a rap, but not just any rap, a scathing one about how much of a bastard Thomas Jefferson is. He stayed up well into the night writing it. </p><p>He refused to do so much as look at Jefferson through the Ireland, Netherlands, and Germany tour dates. Angelica was on his ass constantly about his change in attitude. He didn’t care anymore. He could only be seen on stage and didn’t go out to meet his fans anymore. He didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore and he couldn’t figure out why. Was all of this over Thomas Jefferson, who sure as hell didn’t deserve it? He didn’t even care about him that much. Or did he? Goddamn it he needed a drink. </p><p>That’s how he found himself drunk in a bar in one of the less savory neighborhoods in Paris a half hour before showtime. He only decided to leave after Angelica’s tenth “where are you” text. There was something he needed to grab first, a certain page of lyrics he’d written angrily back in London. With the few inhibitions that kept him from performing this rap for the world lowered, he stumbled to a taxi to take him to the venue they were playing that night. Angelica intercepted him after he’d grabbed it. </p><p>“Are you drunk?!” she exclaimed in a mixture of shock and annoyance. “Can’t cancel now. Fuck, clean up as good as you can in the next fifteen minutes and try not to act any more stupid than you already have.”<br/>
Alexander splashed some water on his face and called it good. After the fifteen minutes passed, he stumbled on stage to join his bandmates. </p><p>“Give me a beat,” he told Lafayette. </p><p>“What are you-” </p><p>“I said give me a beat,” Alexander said irritably. </p><p>Lafayette shared a look with Laurens and Mulligan then reluctantly started drumming. A few seconds later, Alexander started to perform the most classless rap ever heard. Half of it was rapped well and the other was slurred. The audience was unsure how to respond for the whole three minutes Alexander stood at center stage raking Thomas Jefferson’s name through the mud. He wasn’t finished when Angelica had security move him off the stage. </p><p>“I wasn’t finished!” Alexander repeatedly protested as they dragged him. </p><p>“Oh you’re finished!” Angelica seethed. “I can’t believe the level of stupid you have reached tonight. This was stupid even for you and you can be pretty stupid. You’ve ruined this concert for so many of your French fans and Thomas’s. He stormed off after the first verse. This was the most stupid, classless stunt you have ever pulled. You are going outside to apologize to Thomas and then you’re going out there to apologize to the fans. Then, you will do the rest of the show as planned.” </p><p>“But-” Alexander began. The death stare Angelica gave him was enough to shut him up for a lifetime. Reluctantly, he headed out to the parking lot where Jefferson was fuming on a concrete parking block. He stood like a dope for a while, unsure where to begin with apologizing. </p><p>Jefferson noticed his presence after a minute and spat, “Come out here to rub it in, have you? Save it.” Alexander didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say, he was sorry? Even if he were good at apologies, that would barely cover it. “Did you come to say anything at all or are you going to stand there looking stupid?” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Alexander said weakly. </p><p>Jefferson scoffed. “Ha. I fucking hope so. You’re a real bastard, you know that?” </p><p>“So everyone keeps telling me.” </p><p>The taller man laughed dryly. “It was enough to reject me so harshly. But you couldn’t leave it at that, no, you had to make me look like a damn fool in front of all of Paris, France. My favorite place and you’ve ruined it for me. Real classy.” </p><p>“I-” Alexander began. “I didn’t think about that.” </p><p>“You never do, do you?” </p><p>“No,” he admitted. “I just, I don’t know. I felt so bad after London. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I hated it. So I did something stupid, and then another stupid thing and now, here we are.” </p><p>“Story of your life, huh?” Jefferson jested, cracking a small smile. </p><p>“Looks like it,” Alexander agreed. Jefferson’s previous words finally occurred to him. “Hey, you said I rejected you. That means, damn it I’m such an idiot, you’ve actually liked me this whole time?” Jefferson nodded. “And you knew Angelica left us purposefully. That means, the boardwalk and the London Eye were an elaborate ruse for me to fall in love with you?” </p><p>“Not an ‘elaborate ruse’ but I thought it might work,” Jefferson admitted. “Looks like it didn’t.” </p><p>Alexander looked into the endless dark and captivating abyss of Jefferson's eyes then shook his head. “I think it did.” </p><p>Jefferson looked at him utterly confused.”But you pushed me off you.” </p><p>“Haven’t we already established I’m an idiot?” Alexander said. He started to reflect on every moment since Jefferson and his band joined them on tour. “When we were on the boardwalk, I spent the whole day staring at you in your stupid tank top. Then when we got comfortable with each other after the game of twenty questions, I couldn’t help thinking how nice your smile was. I think I’ve liked you this whole time. I knew the sight of you bothered me but I couldn’t figure out how.”<br/>
“What a lovely way to put it,” Jefferson commented. </p><p>“Just shut up and kiss me,” Alexander said. The taller man did just that. He placed his hands under the smaller man’s chin and lifted him to his lips. This time when Thomas’s eyes closed, Alexander’s did too. When the kiss deepened, Thomas could taste the cheap liquor Alexander had downed only hours before. Thomas tasted considerably better. When they pulled away, Alexander felt like his world had turned upside down. He knew why looking into Thomas’s eyes made his stomach feel funny and he wanted to feel it as much as possible. </p><p>The pair walked back into the venue and kicked ass for the rest of the concert. When they’d retired to the tour bus after meeting fans, Eliza slid Angelica a twenty dollar bill. </p><p>“What’s that about?” Alexander asked between sips of water to help with his impending headache. </p><p>“Eliza and I had a bet,” Angelica said. “She thought there was no way you two were secretly in love with each other. I said she was wrong. Judging by the schoolboy blush you had after coming from the parking lot, I was right.” </p><p>“I can’t believe you’ve been behind this the whole time.” </p><p>“No need to thank me,” Angelica said. “Just don’t ever get drunk before a show again or I will kill you.” </p><p>“Trust me, he won’t,” interjected Thomas, who was in behind Alexander ruffling his hair. Alexander protested, saying he wasn’t a puppy. “You look like one when you pout like that.”<br/>
“Shut up,” Alexander mumbled. </p><p>“You never do, so why should I?” </p><p>That made the smaller man go silent. </p><p>The rest of tour was filled with endless banter and dorky pictures on Instagram. Neither Alexander nor Thomas had made anything official but fans had their suspicions. Jamilton trended on Twitter for a several hours after Eliza surreptitiously snapped a picture of them asleep together on the tour bus’s only couch. It was far easier than trying to fit two grown men into one bunk. Thomas was having a hard time not hitting his head on the top as it was. Thomas was a slightly more reserved person but Alexander loved to tease fans on social media with hints about their relationship. They decided to finally reveal it by going live on Twitter and doing a gay rendition of “You’re the One That I Want.” People started talking faster than expected. Nothing made either of them softer than reading the supportive comments, even if there were a few unpleasant ones. </p><p>Alexander learned to tolerate Thomas’s bandmates. He could not bring himself to like either of them but he tried for his boyfriend’s sake. Sometimes he needed what was dubbed a “Burr Break” or a “Moment without Madison” and it worked well. Angelica was pulling less hair out these days but let’s face it, Alexander and his friends are hopelessly chaotic bastards.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>feel free to leave a comment telling me what you think. </p><p>this is my first hamilton fic and honestly, I'm a bit nervous about it. </p><p>thanks for reading!!</p><p>- mikayla</p><p>(if you'd like me to write more in this universe, feel free to let me know.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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